


Cancer

by for_the_love_of_wolves



Series: Alphabet Stories [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Angst, Cancer, Grief, M/M, Open Ending, Peter Hale Gives Stiles Stilinski The Bite, Stiles Stilinski Wants The Bite, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, character death in chapter 2, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29272821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_the_love_of_wolves/pseuds/for_the_love_of_wolves
Summary: Cancer = An abnormal growth of cells which tend to proliferate in an uncontrolled way and, in some cases, to metastasizeStiles is dying. He wants the Bite. Scott refuses and Peter isn't an Alpha, but for a chance to save Stiles, he's going to find a way.This story has two different sequels:Chapter 2: Stiles dies.Chapter 3: Stiles survives the Bite.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Alphabet Stories [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129667
Comments: 72
Kudos: 278





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For this challenge, I write 500-1000 words stories to prompt words for every letter of the alphabet: C for cancer.

_It’s time._

Peter stares at the message on his phone. Stares at the letters until they blur.

Time.

Peter closes his eyes for a brief moment.

Sliding the phone into the pocket of his jacket, he rips the door open, steps out of his car and walks straight into the hospital without hesitating.

Stepping inside feels like entering one of his nightmares. White walls. Antiseptic and the bitter bite of cleansers in his nose. Nurses rush past him. Somewhere, a wheelchair makes a squeaky noise.

Peter tries to ignore everything. He knows where Stiles’ room is. He’s been there often enough the last weeks. Daily. He sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair beside Stiles’ bed, holding his hand while Stiles was getting his regular dose of poison that was supposed to defeat the cancer inside him. It didn't work.

With time, Stiles grew more tired and withdrawn. He was withering away like a flower in winter. His face lost color. The lovely blush of his cheeks was barely visible when he tried a weak chuckle.

“This sucks,” he told Peter, clutching his hand. “But because of you, it sucks slightly less.”

Peter tried to smile, although he was gritting his teeth so firmly, it almost hurt.  
  


* * *

  
Peter hates this. He hates every damn single second. He can’t deal with the thought of losing Stiles to a stupid human sickness like this. Can’t deal with the thought of living in a world without Stiles. _It’s your own fault_ , a voice inside his mind tells him. _You got attached. You made yourself vulnerable. And now, this is going to hurt._

But oh, Peter thinks, it was worth it.

Every single second.

Now, everything is going to change. One way or another.  
  


Peter thinks back to the day he arrived at the hospital and Scott stormed past him, avoiding his eyes. When Peter got to Stiles’ room, Stiles was punching a pillow, his face red and his eyes wild.

“He’s not going to do it,” Stiles all but growled. “He’s still saying we’re best buddies but he doesn’t want to change me. Although I’m fucking dying anyway.”

Peter didn't tell Stiles he won’t die. Neither him nor the human have a thing for blatant lies. He just listened. 

“He’s scared,” Stiles told him, looking down at the pillow, breathing heavily from the little bit of effort. “He’s scared I will die and he will have to live with it. Selfish idiot. It would be on me, cause I begged him to do it, he wouldn’t have to feel guilty. Bastard!” 

Peter tilted his head. “You want the Bite? Although you know your chance to survive it are not that high?" Not with a terminal illness.

Stiles looked up at him with blazing eyes. “Yeah. I want it. I want a chance. I … I like this life. I like to be in a pack, I like you and what we have. I like our movie evenings and the pancakes you make me in the morning. I like to feel appreciated, okay? And …” he looks down at his hands, shaking his head and fighting tears. “I don’t want to die.” 

Peter swallowed around a lump in his throat. “I don’t want you to die either,” he said and sat on the edge of Stiles’ bed, opening his arms for him. The human sobbed and sank into the embrace. Peter stroked his heaving back and listened to his sobs and inside him, a plan started to boil. 

* * *

  
A week later, Peter walked into Stiles’ room and said, “I can give you the Bite.” 

Stiles opened his mouth and closed it again. He gasped when Peter flashed his eyes red, the new power surging through him. A wave of adrenaline. “Peter. Did you kill Scott?!”

Peter chuckled. “No. I found a rogue Alpha miles away from here. The pack owning the territory had a lot of problems because of them and they knew my reputation as Left Hand. They are grateful. And they were very understanding when I explained the situation.” 

Stiles looked relieved. “Oh. Good. Uh, it’s not too much?” There was worry in his voice and Peter knew why. He shook his head. “No. It’s alright. This time, I can control it. I have a strong anchor.” 

Stiles smiled carefully. “Who is your anchor?” 

“You,” Peter said and Stiles’ breath hitched.  
  


* * *

  
Stiles needed some time to think and talk to his Dad. So Peter waited in the car. And now, now he’s going to change everything. He’s either going to end this, or he is going to create a new beginning. 

When he walks into Stiles’ room, Noah is there, looking pale but also determined. He nods at Peter, giving his approval wordlessly. Stiles is sitting in his bed, a combination of hope and fear in his tired, red rimmed eyes. “You are going to do it, aren’t you? You promised.” 

Peter sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for Stiles’ wrist. It is thin. Frail. Stiles’ skin is clammy and the smell of sickness floating around him is overwhelming. “If you want me to do it, then yes,” Peter says gently. I might very much follow you if it doesn't work, he thinks vaguely. Whatever life might have to offer after losing something like this, after losing a chance of happiness he didn't even hope for, doesn't manage to lure him.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Do it,” he whispers, swallowing heavily. 

Peter doesn’t hesitate. Hesitation makes everything worse. He raises Stiles’ wrist to his mouth, drops his fangs and digs them into flesh until he tastes copper and Stiles makes a strangled, pained noise that has his father squirming on his chair. 

When it’s over, Peter reaches for a tissue and wipes the blood from the wound. Stiles stares at it, panting. There is sweat gathering on his forehead. He sways a little and Peter holds him, wrapping his arm around Stiles so the human can lean his head against his shoulder. Stiles shudders and closes his eyes. “It’s okay. If it doesn’t work. It’s okay,” he breathes. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m sorry, if … I’m sorry.” 

Peter shushes him. He buries his nose in Stiles’ hair and waits. Waits for either the end or the beginning. 


	2. Sequel Version 1: Stiles dies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This is the sequel version 1, where Stiles DIES. It doesn't have a happy ending, it is sad and hurts. If you don't want to read character death and grief, please don't read this! 
> 
> I will soon add sequel version number 2, where Stiles survives. <3

Stiles dies in Peter’s arms. 

Slowly, but steadily. 

There is a feeble moment when Peter thinks it is going to work. He feels Stiles’ heartbeat ticking up, can feel the spark of a newborn wolf trying to settle in Stiles’ chest. But then, Stiles exhales shakily and starts to shudder. His breaths are wet and his skin glistens with cold sweat. 

Peter wraps his arms tighter around Stiles. He knows these are the last moments he gets to do this. The last time. He meets Noah’s wet eyes over Stiles’ head and doesn’t know what to say. So he says nothing. 

Stiles stays unconscious. He just breathes. In and out. In and out. Once, a tiny trickle of black blood makes its way from Stiles’ nose down to his chin. Peter wipes it away with a tissue. 

Time passes. The clock on the wall ticks on carelessly. 

In and out. 

In. 

Out. 

The silence in the room is stifling. 

Peter kisses Stiles’ head and runs a hand through his hair. He carefully lays Stiles back on the bed, until it looks like the boy is just sleeping. 

There’s a choked noise from Noah’s corner. Peter doesn’t look at him. He looks at Stiles a last time, then turns and leaves the room. 

He is numb. 

Numb he walks through the hallways, his surroundings blurry. He doesn’t stop. Until he is in his car. Alone. Shut off from the world. From … what has just happened. He looks down at his hands. There are little splotches of black blood on them. Peter stares at them, feeling nothing. 

* * *

“I’m glad you were there,” Noah says hoarsely, when they are sharing a bottle of Whiskey. 

Peter adds wolfsbane because he wants to be drunk. Wants to be numb. The realization settled in, together with the pain of loss. He can’t do it. But he has to keep an eye on Noah. 

The Sheriff is staring into the void, his eyes glassy, the fingers curled around the glass shaking. “He would have liked being a wolf,” he says quietly. 

“He’d been a magnificent wolf,” Peter agrees, emptying his glass, the liquid burning in his throat. “He is running with them right now. Only not here.” 

Noah smiles weakly, a tear running down his face, dripping into his glass. “I like that image.” 

* * *

Peter should have known the funeral wouldn’t pass without any interruptions. But floating in his pain and heartbreak and overall numbness, he still doesn’t really expect Scott to walk up to him and shove him backwards, his eyes flashing red, blurred with tears. “You killed him. You killed my best friend!” 

Isaac and Cora pull Scott back, Derek steps in front of Peter, but Noah is the one who talks to Scott. The one who raises a hand and says, “Stop this, son. Stiles wouldn’t have wanted this, and you know it.” 

Scott’s eyes turn back to their human brown at that and he does look guilty, but he still clenches his hands into fists and glares at Peter, shaking his head. “Why did you have to bite him?! Was it power, again? You wanted to be an Alpha again, to have power and Stiles was supposed to be your first Beta? If you hadn’t bitten him, he might have had a chance!” 

Peter can’t muster the energy to be angry. “He was already dying, Scott. I could smell and feel it. He asked for the Bite, for a chance to live, and I tried to give that to him. The wolf couldn’t survive inside his body. He was too far gone. I don’t ask you to accept me here, I just ask you to let me mourn my boy, my anchor and the one good thing in my life since I lost everything. Just for today.” 

Scott stares at him, and maybe he sees something in Peter’s eyes, because he takes a few steps back and lowers his head, relaxing in Isaac’s careful grip. “Sorry,” Scott breathes and turns away. 

Everyone settles down and waits for the ceremony. 

* * *

Melissa stays with Noah to make sure he’s okay. The pups go to Scott’s house together. Derek drives Peter to his apartment. 

They don’t talk in the car. There are no words for this. 

When Peter steps into his apartment, Derek comes in after him. Peter frowns. “You can leave now,” he tells his nephew. 

Derek shakes his head. “I worry about you.” 

Peter feels both surprised and strangely touched. “I’ll be alright, Derek. I just … I need to …” He swallows. Somehow, the words won’t come. Maybe, because he actually doesn’t know what he is going to do now. What is he supposed to do? 

Suddenly, there is Derek’s hand on his shoulder. Warm and solid. “I want to stay. Let me.”

“I … Okay,” Peter breathes. He feels strange. Like he is walking on cotton. Maybe, he really shouldn’t be alone. He lets Derek lead him to the couch and accepts the water Derek pours him, gulping it down at once. “You know,” he says quietly, lowering the glass and staring at it, “I wanted to court him. When the time was right. It felt right. It felt … like a good thing. A really good thing worth fighting for. Worth _living_ for.” 

Derek nods. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. 

Peter inhales shakily. “I thought I didn’t have space in my heart for any more pain of loss. I was wrong,” he says and then the dam just … breaks. 

For the first time in ages, tears run over his face and he can’t do anything to hold them back. Derek wraps his arms around him and he lets it happen. He just puts his forehead on Derek’s shoulder and cries. 

For everything he has lost. Everyone. For Stiles. 


	3. Sequel Version 2: Stiles survives

For a long time, Stiles floats in darkness. 

When he comes back up to the surface, everything feels different. But also the same. It is strange, like balancing on an edge between too much and too little.

First, he feels like he is wrapped up in cotton. Second, he is too hot and too cold at the same time. Third, a sharp smell is biting his nose. Stiles frowns and turns his head on the pillow, forcing his eyes to flutter open. 

He almost immediately wants to close them again. 

Everything is too bright. It hurts. Stiles whimpers and flinches, when a chair creaks somewhere beside him. He startles when he can hear his own pulse, loud and frantic in his chest. There is also something else. Something bright and strong and new. What …

“Calm down, Stiles,” a voice tells him. He knows that voice. 

“Peter …” 

“Yes, I’m here. It’s okay. You are alright. Your body and your senses just need to adjust.” 

Adjust … Stiles scrunches his nose. For a long moment, he’s just confused. But then, everything comes back. Cancer. Dying. Peter. Alpha. Bite. _Bite._

Stiles opens his eyes again, staring up at Peter’s face, that’s hovering over him. Peter smiles. “Hey, there.” 

“Hey,” Stiles tries to say, but his throat is so dry, nothing comes over his lips. 

“Your Dad is getting you some water,” Peter tells him. 

Stiles nods. He raises his hand and looks at his wrist. The wound is gone. His breath hitches. The wound is gone. So is the cancer, right? 

Just like that …

Stiles doesn’t know how to feel. It’s just … it’s a lot. Too much. He flinches every time a door falls shut somewhere. He reaches out for Peter’s hand and intertwines their fingers. It grounds him and he closes his eyes, falling back into the pillows. 

Focusing on every breath he takes and releases, focusing on the healthy pulse of his heart and the feeling of Peter’s thumb, painting circles on his skin, he realizes, he’s alive. 

It’s a good feeling. 

* * *

The forest is alive at night. 

Stiles, closes his eyes, takes a breath and it’s all there. Moss, wood, ripe blackberries. Somewhere, a little stream gurgles over stones and the wind makes the leaves of the trees rustle. A mouse scurries through the undergrowth and an owl calls out for its mate. 

When Stiles opens his eyes, he flashes them, carefully letting his wolf forward. _Life, death, rebirth_ , he chants in his head, letting the mantra ground him as he slips into the state between wolf and human. _Life, death, rebirth …_

The world in front of him changes into colors that float into each other. Every scent trail is another one. The mouse is blue, and it runs zigzag-ways. Stiles smiles and searches for the one scent he’s after. 

Once he finds it, he follows it, his wolf howling in joy at the chase. Stiles is so occupied with following the trail, he kind of forgets to focus on sounds. So he doesn’t notice the rustle beside him, until it’s too late. A shadow jumps on him and Stiles yelps, falling and rolling over the forest floor, claws digging into his arms. 

He lands on his back and a huff of laughter hits his face. 

“Ow,” Stiles complains, glaring up at a smirking Peter who is pinning his wrists to the ground. “Not fair.” 

Peter tilts his head. “It was fair. We said we would make it more difficult since you have made so much progress lately.” 

Stiles pouts. “I almost had it. I almost found you in under five minutes.” 

Peter lets him go and chuckles. “I know, sweetheart. You are getting really fast.” 

Stiles gets up and shakes the leaves off. “Let me try again. But without the dirty moves.” 

Peter’s eyes flash red. Stiles can feel their bond vibrating with joy and anticipation and knows, Peter’s wolf is just as eager for the chase as his own. This time, Stiles thinks, he’s going to be the one who pounces. 

* * *

Most people are completely okay with Stiles being a werewolf and get used to it fast. His Dad still startles sometimes when Stiles’ eyes flash or he is able to smell things no one else can smell. Like when his Dad secretly ate a burger. 

Derek and Cora decide to change from Scott into Peter’s pack. Which is kind of a problem first. Technically, it is not problematic to have two Alphas on one territory. Not when they work together to keep the packs and the Nemeton safe. 

For Scott and Peter, they have to hold an intervention. Scott is convinced that Peter wanted to be an Alpha again to take over the territory and that Stiles was only a means to an end. That makes Peter furious and he tells Scott he has been destroying the territory without really noticing because he refuses to learn about the supernatural. 

In the end, Stiles manages to establish a truce. Peter - rolling his eyes - promises he won’t try to take the territory over, Scott promises to actually ask for advice and to hear everyone out at pack meetings. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I am actually happy you are alive,” Scott tells him when it’s over. “Really, I am. But … it could have gone wrong, right? The Bite could have killed you …”

“I would have died anyway,” Stiles says. “Peter decided to do what I wanted. And what I wanted was the Bite.” 

“Yeah. Sorry …” Scott says, looking actually hopeful when he adds, “We’re still friends, right?”

Stiles isn’t sure about that. Things change. People change. Relationships change too. He tells Scott he needs time and space. That Scott accepts that without pressing, is a first good sign for the future. 

When Scott leaves, Derek goes to Stiles and tells him, “You are a great emissary.” 

Stiles is surprised. He didn’t even know he would be the emissary. Or that he could be, with being a wolf, not only a druid. But then … it makes sense. And he likes it. 

* * *

Peter starts his courting in summer. 

Stiles finds pastries on his nightstand in the morning. He gets fuzzy sweaters for the next winter and books. A lot of books. 

Every gift makes him feel warm inside. 

When they are over the gift stage and move on to the snuggle stage, Stiles can feel his wolf purring whenever Peter is close. Their bond changes. It gets stronger and he can feel it from great distances, always vibrating with fondness. 

On a full moon, they hunt together. 

Stiles is drunk with the thrill of the chase and with love. He catches Peter a deer and preens when he manages to impress his Alpha. His future mate. 

“You are a magnificent wolf,” Peter says fondly, kissing the top of Stiles’ nose. 

Stiles’ wolf howls in joy. 


End file.
